


The Rule Against Perpetuities

by GilShalos1



Series: He Does The Maximum [1]
Category: Law & Order
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:58:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8712946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilShalos1/pseuds/GilShalos1
Summary: Jack McCoy, Danielle Melnick: law school.





	1. Reasonable Foreseeability

Danielle Melnick closed the book she was reading, finger between the pages to keep her place. _Reasonable foreseeability applies exactly as in private negligence._ she recited silently _This is established in Wilson versus the State of Texas and others, which –_

A clipboard appeared in front of her, derailing her train of thought, and a voice said, “I’d like you to sign this, please.”

The voice, low and flexible, was familiar from her Criminal Law class. _Jack McCoy_. Always sat at the back of the class, just as Danielle herself always sat at the front. Smart, that was a given for everyone who’d gotten into New York University Law School, but a little too full-of-himself. _Tall, dark, and very well-aware of how good-looking he is._

Danielle took the clipboard and looked up at him, having to admit that he was very good-looking indeed. Since she was sitting down, she had to look even further up that the difference in their respective heights usually dictated. It also gave McCoy the perfect vantage point to look down the front of her blouse, and she gave him points for the fact that his gaze stayed steady on her face.

She patted the bench beside her. “Have some manners, Jack, and stop giving me a crick in my neck. What’s this you want me to sign?”

He sat. “A petition. To get Professor Patricks fired.”

She scanned it. _We, the undersigned, being students in Professor Patricks_ _’ classes, do apply …_ The ruled lines for signatures was blank, except for McCoy’s own name. “I see it’s a popular one.”

“You’re the first person I’ve asked,” McCoy said.

“I’m flattered.” She came to the meat of the complaint. _Did, on March 3, in front of the students of his second year Criminal Law class, state that prosecutors must be careful not to bring charges of assault if they cannot satisfy themselves it isn_ _’t ‘just a domestic’. This distinction is incorrect in law, and demonstrates an attitude which falls far short of the expectations of professors of this esteemed institution._

McCoy offered her a pen. “If you sign it, Barbara and Jenny and Ron McClosky will too.”

Danielle took it, and tapped it against the page. “Barbara and Jenny will. I don’t know about Ron McClosky.”

McCoy grinned at her. “He follows you around like a puppy. He’ll sign.”

“Who else?”

He shrugged. “I can get Louise, Bobbi, and Anne-Marie.”

“Of course you can,” Danielle said dryly. Each of those young women had arrived for one or more classes on the back of Jack McCoy’s motorcycle this year. “How about Tony Fraser? Can you persuade him? If he signs, half the jocks in our year will be knocking each other over to get their names down.”

“I can try,” McCoy said.

“You need more men on the list, Jack,” Danielle said. “If it’s just the angry feminists and their friends, the university will ignore it.” She tapped the pen against the page again. “Tony’s going out with that blonde nursing student, isn’t he? The one with the curls?”

“I think they’re more staying in than going out,” McCoy said dryly. “At least according to Tony.”

Danielle snorted. “Men. Anyway, she’s final year, I think. So she’ll have done her rotation through a local E.R. She’ll have seen a few broken noses and black eyes, I’d expect. Why don’t you talk to her and ask her to ask Tony to sign?”

He nodded. “And you?”

“Of course.” She scrawled her name and address and signed with a flourish. “The last thing women need is the next generation of A.D.As learning to ignore battered women.” She offered the clipboard back to him with a smile. “Enough is enough.”

McCoy nodded, face grave. “Enough is enough,” he said. “Thanks, Danielle.” He paused. “Do people call you Danielle? Or Dani?”

She frowned. “Do I look like a Dani to you?”

He studied her a moment, head cocked to one side, and then gave her a grin with what she was certain was carefully practiced charm. “You do, actually,” he said. “ _Dani_.”

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

 

 


	2. Patriarchy And The Penal Code

Shelly Kates was the complete package – smart, articulate, with a wicked sense of humor and a smile that made everyone who saw it smile back.

Right now she was smiling up at Jack McCoy, her cap of fair hair a little ruffled, giving him what he was certain was a deliberate view down the neckline of her dress.

_And a very nice view it is, too_. “So you think you passed?” he asked.

“Flying colors, and you can take that to the bank,” Shelly said. “How about you?”

McCoy shrugged. “I think I probably did alright.” In fact, he was as confident as Shelly was, had found every question on the bar exam transparently easy. He’d learned, though, that girls like Shelly liked a little self-deprecation.

She laughed, and patted his chest. “You need to work on that humility a little more, Jack. You —”

“Jack!” A hand grabbed his arm, and he turned to see Danielle Melnick. “Jack, I have to talk to you.”

_Shit_. He was almost certain that another fifteen minutes would see Shelly Kates agreeing to come home with him, and he suspected that she’d be as uninhibited and enthusiastic in bed as she was in moot court —

“Now, Jack,” Danielle said fiercely, pulling on his arm. _Serious. Something Lanie Stieglitz — but no, not at this hour — unless one of her clients has been arrested._

_Shit_ , he thought again. _One of those women from the 181st Community Center, one of the ones who gave in and went back to her husband_ _…_

_Jesus Christ, a murder trial._

“Shelly, excuse me,” he said, and let Danielle tow him toward the door.

The night air was cool and fresh after the heat and smoke of the bar. “What’s happened?” McCoy asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

Danielle turned, folding her arms. “I got an advance copy of the most recent edition of the New York University Law Review,” she said. She dug in her over-sized handbag and pulled out a booklet. “Really, Jack? Patriarchy and the Penis Code?”

“What — no!” _Jesus, what a typo for them to let to go to print._ His stomach dropped to his shoes. He seized the journal edition from her and flipped frantically to the table of contents. _Patriarchy and the Penal Code, by John J McCoy._ He turned to the indicated page and read the correct title again, then lowered the book. “Jesus, Dani.”

She grinned. “Your face, Jack. I wish I had a camera.”

“You are the devil,” he said. “You are the devil incarnate.”

“And your ego is still the largest target in New York City,” she said. “It’s not a bad piece of work. But the fifth paragraph would be stronger with a reference to Arabella Mansfield. You should have told me you were working on it.”

“I didn’t want you to steal the idea,” McCoy said, which was a lie. _I wanted to surprise you_. He wished she hadn’t gotten hold of an advance copy. He’d planned to give it to her, to be able to watch her face when she scanned the table of contents. _Was she surprised? Pleased?_

_Impressed?_

“Oh, so that’s what it was,” Danielle said, and McCoy had the uneasy feeling she could see straight through him.

“So apart from the fifth paragraph, what did you think?” he asked as casually as he could.

She took a step forward, then another, until she was toe-to-toe with him. “Your conclusion was strong.”

He swallowed. God, she was close enough for him to feel the heat of her body, close enough for those small, firm breasts to be pressed against him. “But?” he asked hoarsely.

“Why does there have to be a ‘but’?”

McCoy closed his eyes. “With you, Dani, there’s always a —” Without hesitation, her hand slipped inside the waistband of his jeans and he gasped. “Oh god Jesus,” he blurted as she found her target.

“ _But_ ,” she said, stroking him with dizzying expertise, “I’d like to discuss it with you in more detail. At my place. Now. Wha’d’ya say?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Yes. _Please_.”

* * *

 

 

.oOo.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arabella Mansfield was the first female lawyer in the United States, admitted to the Iowa Bar in 1869 after successfully challenging the Iowa licensing statute which prohibited women and minorities.


	3. Late Night Study

Jack McCoy gritted his teeth. “Dani – are you – I can’t –“

“Nearly,” she panted against his neck. “Nearly there, Jack, nearly –“

“God – I  —”

“A closed class is defined by …?”

McCoy raised his head. “What?”

Danielle Melnick threaded her fingers through his hair and arched beneath him. “Heirs. A closed class –“

_Only Danielle Melnick would be thinking of wills and probate law at a time like this._ McCoy struggled to marshal rational thought. “Limited and un-expandable after the execution of the will.”

“Oh yes,” she said, and moaned. “Like that. Right there, Jack, right there — “ Her nails dug into his back. “How limited?”

“Definable. Dani, is this really the time ..?”

“The perfect time.” She wrapped her leg around his waist, using the leverage to move faster and harder beneath him. “Precedents on definable class?”

“Smith versus Hickson, Witherspoon versus Witherspoon, Macauly –“

“Oh god yes,” Danielle all but screamed and McCoy felt her go over the edge and let himself follow her in blinding release. He managed to roll over before he collapsed, spent and limp.

After a moment, she gave a low chuckle. “That was fantastic. God, I knew the minute I saw you in class you’d be a hell of a ride, but Jack, you exceed expectations.”

He smiled. “You chose a pretty strange time to revise for a civil pro class we both passed two years ago.”

Danielle rolled her head on the pillow and gave him a wicked grin. “The perfect time,” she said. “Or I wouldn’t be being _nearly_ so complimentary.”

McCoy raised his eyebrows. “I should have realized you had your own agenda.”

“With a couple of items left on it,” Danielle said. “I’m not done, yet.”

“I’m afraid _I_ am,” McCoy said ruefully.

She raised herself up on her knees, and then straddled his chest. “Not yet. Time to revise your _Latin_. That lovely mouth of yours was made for more than moot court, Jack McCoy.”

McCoy understood the concept, but it wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d enjoy – until Danielle was trembling and sobbing above him, one hand braced on the wall and the other clutching his hair, the smartest and most articulate woman he’d ever met driven to incoherent begging by the touch of his lips and tongue. By the time she shuddered and cried out and pulled away from him, he was hard again, aroused by the taste of her and by the intoxicating awareness that he could make even the formidable Danielle Melnick yield to him.

“And they say Latin is a dead language,” he said as she sank down to rest on his chest.

She chuckled, and patted his arm. “I’m sure I have a smart comeback,” she mumbled. “Give me a minute to come up with it.”

He ran his hand up her back. “I’ve rendered _Danielle Melnick_ speechless?”

“Don’t get cocky,” she said. “It’s temporary.”

He captured her hand and drew it downward. “Too late. So what’s next on your agenda?”

“More Latin,” Danielle said, sliding down the bed. “Let’s move on to the letter ‘F’.”

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

 

 


	4. Perpetuities

 

“When you go to court, Mrs Wilson,” Jack McCoy said, “Ms Melnick will take you through what your husband did, as we’ve practiced. Then your husband’s attorney will have the right to ask you questions.”

The woman sitting on the other side of the table in the 181st Street Community center nodded.

“It could get rough,” Danielle Melnick said. “In fact, it usually does get rough. So we’re —” She stopped, and put a hand to her mouth. “So we’re going to —” Another pause.

“Dani?” McCoy asked, turning to look at her. She was pale, her forehead beaded with sweat. 

“Excuse me a minute,” she said rapidly, bolted from her chair and lunged for the door.

“Why don’t you get yourself a glass of water,” McCoy suggested to their client, and followed Danielle.

His legs were longer, but Danielle was running, and he didn’t catch up with her until she banged through the door to the alley and stopped, leaning over with her hands braced on her knees.

“Dani?” he asked. “You okay?”

“Do I look okay?” she snapped, and threw up.

McCoy gathered her hair away from her face as she retched and put his other arm around her shoulders. “Bad chicken salad?” he asked when she seemed to be done. “Why don’t you go home? I can finish up with Mrs Wilson on my own.” She shook her head. “Or we can reschedule, prep her tomorrow. There’s still two weeks before she has to take the stand.”

Danielle straightened up. “I’m not going to feel any better tomorrow,” she said. “Shit. This wasn’t how I planned to break it to you. I’m afraid we have a perpetuities problem of our own, Jack.”

“A perpetuities — you’re pregnant?” When she nodded, he took a deep breath. “I thought you were protected.”

“So did I,” Danielle said. She took a step backward, arms folded.

“What are you going to do?” McCoy asked.

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean, what are _we_ going to do.”

“Yes. But you have to tell me what it is that you want us to do, first.”

“Don’t you have an opinion?” Danielle asked.

McCoy shook his head. “I had an opinion when you stuck your hand in my pants and said _do you want to come home with me_. I recall that I was enthusiastically in favor. At this point, _your_ opinions are what matters.”

Danielle frowned up at him. “You’re a Catholic. Are you saying you’d really be okay with it if I decided to get an abortion?”

“I was _raised_ a Catholic. I thought I’d given you plenty of evidence that I’m not particularly wedded to the teachings of the church.” He paused. “Whatever you want to do, Dani, whether it’s a trip to Planned Parenthood, or a walk down the aisle. I’m up for it.”

“God, Jack.” Danielle looked away for a moment. “I love you. But I’m not going to marry you. And I’m not going to have your baby.”

McCoy nodded slowly, not sure if he felt relief or regret, keeping both from his face. “How much money will you need?”

“I’ve got it covered.”

“Dani.” He took her hand. “I’ll pay half. And I’ll come with you to the appointment.”

“I can manage –“

“I know.” McCoy squeezed her fingers. “But Dani, it’s _your_ choice, and _our_ responsibility. You didn’t get pregnant by on your _own_.  You shouldn’t have to deal with it alone, either.”

She was silent a moment, and then wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. “I do love you, Jack. I just … there’s too much I want to _do_ for me to have time to be Mrs Jack McCoy.”

He ran his hand over her hair. “I know. Or I would have asked you already.”

Danielle raised her head to glare up at him. “You think I’d wait around for that patriarchal bullshit? _I_ would have asked _you_. And you would have said yes, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I do,” he said. He kissed her forehead. “ _You_ _’re_ what’s good for me, Danielle Melnick. And you always will be.”

 

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Abortion became legal in New York City in 1970, 3 years before Roe V Wade.


End file.
